Optimistic outlook, on having

The Observer food monthly magazine - my favourite monthly supplement, unsurprisingly - promised '101 picnic ideas' last Sunday. It's either a defiant fist-shaking at the weather, which promises 101 more days of distinctly un-picnickiness, or a sign that the writers are enjoying their holidays somewhere in the idyllic French countryside, or possibly Barbados. And I thought politicians were the ones separated from the people ...

We were hoping for a bit of sunshine - or at least just hoping for a dry, if cloudy, day! - this Sunday as we begin the season of exodus. I liked it better when September was for meeting people or welcoming people back, rather then seeing them off. But I suppose we can't all stay here, short of opening our own university - an expensive venture I gather. Or a self-sacrificing one that I think absolutely amazing but financially (and geographically) impossible at this point in my life! If I'm ever in Toronto as an academic, I'd love to be part of this.

The rain appears to have cleared up for my walk home - for which I am very grateful. Last night, after our The Wire reading group meeting, Nas and I walked home in a downpour so heavy we were forced to dash into the nearest pub and wait it out with a pint. The water rushing downhill out of the park was a virtual torrent - we were lucky the pub was so near...